They talked a few minutes more, until Ria urgently called him away to check on a casserole. “I’ll call you later,” he promised.
The phone rang again almost immediately. This time it was Gunnar. So much had happened since the dance, Kerrianne could barely remember his face. “I tried to call you several times yesterday,” he said.
“I was working on my greenhouse.”
“Greenhouse?”
“Yeah. We put it up yesterday.” She explained about the greenhouse, and he whistled with appreciation.
“All in one day, huh?”
“Basically.”
The talk moved on to children and how his were in the other room driving him crazy. “Don’t get me wrong, I love them, but they need a woman’s touch. Hey, if you’re not doing anything, maybe I could stop by.”
“I’m in bed, sick.” She’d already told him earlier.
“Oh, that’s right.”
“So are you coming to the dance? There’s one on Saturday that’s supposed to be good.”
“I thought they were all on Fridays.”
“No. It varies.”
“I might be there. If I’m better.”
“I hope so. I can’t wait to see you there.” His voice was low and promising, and Kerrianne felt a prickle of unease. She decided that maybe Gunnar was not her type after all. Ryan never made her feel strange with his tone or implications. What was Ryan doing now? Was he really having a casserole for Thanksgiving dinner?
“Kerrianne, are you there?”
She hadn’t heard any of Gunnar’s last few comments. “I think my aspirin is wearing off,” she said. “I’d better go. Thanks for calling.” With a few more comments, she deftly ended the conversation.
She wondered fleetingly if either of the men who’d sent her flowers had tried to call this week as well. She hadn’t been home as much as normal. Well, it didn’t matter. Neither of them had impressed her like Ryan.
She fell into a restless sleep, forgetting to take more pain reliever, and when she awoke, she was burning again and shivering with chills. There was a ringing in her head—or so she thought until she finally realized it was the doorbell. She groaned, hoping whoever it was would go away and leave her to suffer in peace. But the ringing continued. Pushing herself from bed, she stumbled to the window and saw Ryan’s truck in the driveway. Tears of frustration came to her eyes. This was not how she wanted Ryan to see her.
RING!
He apparently wasn’t giving up. Pulling one of the blankets from the bed, she wrapped it around her, shoved her feet into her slippers, and made her way slowly down the stairs. She opened the door, feeling flushed and dizzy.
Ryan’s mouth dropped open. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were feeling better. You sounded better than this on the phone.”
“Thanks,” she said dryly.
“We brought you some casserole,” Ria held up a plate covered with tinfoil.
“Yeah,” Tiger added. “We didn’t want you to starve here all alone.”
Kerrianne wished they had let her starve. “Well, come on in, I guess.”
“We won’t stay.” Ryan eyed her uncertainly. “Look, can I get you some Tylenol or something?”
Kerrianne was feeling faint. “Will you help me to the couch?”
He did better than that. He swooped her up in his arms, blanket and all, and carried her to the family room. Kerrianne rested her head against his shoulder, feeling safe and protected. “Thanks,” she muttered as he set her down gently on the couch.
Within minutes, Ryan had a glass of water and some pain reliever he’d found in a cupboard somewhere. Kerrianne took it gratefully.
“You shouldn’t be alone,” he said.
“I’m fine, really.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Neither am I,” Tiger said. “Can I watch TV?”
“No.” Ryan said shortly in a voice that meant business. “Look, you and Ria fold up these blankets, okay? Then you can put all those books back on the shelf.”
“But, Dad, that’s our tent,” Tiger protested. “Someone’s already taken off some blankets.” He looked pointedly at the blanket Kerrianne had wrapped around her.
“Now.” Ryan boomed. “Or there will be no TV tonight at all. And I mean it this time.” The children looked at him for a few seconds, as though trying to judge his sincerity, and then scurried to obey.
“I learned that from you,” Ryan whispered, hiding a smile.
“So they can teach old dogs new tricks.”
“Are you calling me a dog?”
She shook her head, too tired to spar even verbally. She closed her eyes and the next thing she knew Ryan had placed a cool rag on her forehead. “I think you dropped off there for a moment,” he said. Sure enough, the family room was clean now and the children were putting a puzzle together near the TV.
“How do you feel?”
“My head’s not pounding so much.”
“Thank heaven for aspirin.”
Her head might feel better, but her stomach was empty and complaining. Kerrianne didn’t feel like eating, but she knew she should. “Do you think you could get me some toast?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“What about the casserole!” Ria popped up from the floor, her face intent. “It’s the best casserole in the whole world. Really.” The intensity in the child’s voice told Kerrianne this wasn’t any ordinary casserole. She glanced at Ryan and saw his face unmoving and without expression—except for the eyes which were deep and sad.
“Okay,” Kerrianne agreed. “Let’s have the casserole then.”
“We only brought some for you,” Ria said. “We’re saving the rest for leftovers.”
“I see.”
When Ryan went to heat up the casserole, Kerrianne asked Ria, “So did you make the casserole?”
“No. My mom did.”
Her mom? That was something to digest.
“She left a lot of dinners,” Tiger added. “This is the last one.”
Kerrianne recognized the importance. She still had the Sunday School manual Adam had been teaching from a few days before he died. She’d read his last lesson, especially his scrawled notes, so many times that she’d memorized everything. But food couldn’t be reused or replaced, and she knew their sharing of it was significant. “Thank you,” she said solemnly. “I’m honored to taste your mother’s casserole.”
The casserole wasn’t bad, though it had a slight taste of freezer burn that Ria had apparently not noticed. “Mmm, very nice. Your mother was a good cook.”
“The best,” Ria said. Then she added hastily, “You’re good, too.”
“Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”
Ria seemed satisfied and went back to her puzzle. Tiger sat by Kerrianne and whispered. “I think you cook better, but don’t tell Ria.”
Kerrianne nodded gravely as he hopped down and joined his sister. She didn’t expect Tiger to have the same loyalty to their mother that Ria did. After all, she’d been gone two years, and the four-year-old Tiger didn’t remember her.
“I hope it tasted okay,” Ryan said quietly, crouching down next to the couch. “When she heard you were sick here alone, Ria wanted to share it with you.”
“Didn’t you taste it?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
Kerrianne thought this a little odd. “Well, it was nice of her. I’m glad you came over.”
Ryan nodded absently, his mind apparently still on the casserole. “I didn’t eat it . . . well . . . I wanted it to last for them. And it . . . it just brings it all back too much.”
“I understand.” Kerrianne did. In fact, she’d marveled at how he’d begun to date so early after his wife’s death. She wanted to ask him why he had done it and how he’d done it, but she felt the question was too personal. Besides, her head hurt and she felt ill enough to want to close her eyes and sleep.
She must have dropped off again because when she woke up Caleb was home and hu
gging Tiger as though he hadn’t seen him in a month.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Amanda was saying to Ryan. “I was a little worried when I called several times and no one answered.”
“Must have been before I got here.”
“You cleaned up the tent. I would have done it earlier, but Caleb begged me not to.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you did. And see? He doesn’t even remember they had a tent.”
Sure enough, Caleb and Tiger had finished hugging and were talking animatedly with Benjamin and Ria. Misty sat stiffly on the end of the couch. When she felt Kerrianne’s gaze, she asked, “Are you okay, Mom?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just fine.”
Amanda sat down in the easy chair. “Well, I’m going to be here for a while, and then Mom’s coming over. Says she’s going to stay the night.” She said more, and Kerrianne nodded, but she wasn’t really listening. She was thinking how Ryan had carried her to the couch and tended her so lovingly. She was thinking about how much she was growing to care for him. How much she liked his children.
She fell into a dream. In the dream she and Ryan weren’t alone. Adam was there, sitting in the easy chair watching them with eyes wide and knowing.
“I’m sorry, Adam,” Kerrianne whispered. “You do understand, don’t you?”
He didn’t reply.
* * *
Ryan didn’t want to leave Kerrianne, but she had fallen asleep again and was in good hands. He’d call her tomorrow to see how she was doing. At least seeing her had softened the ache in his heart and let him feel hope for the future. Holidays were still so hard. He drove home silently.
“Dad, someone’s here,” Ria said, pointing to a sleek blue sedan parked in front of their house.
Ryan peered into the dusk and recognized one of his father’s cars, an older model, not the new one he’d bought a few months ago. His stomach turned. His refusal to come to Thanksgiving dinner must have upset his father more than Ryan believed possible if he had come all this way. Ryan drove into the garage and set the parking brake with more force than necessary. Why did he have to come now? he thought bitterly. Today of all days when we are the most vulnerable.
Yet at the same time he hoped for something good to come of it. He hoped to finally talk with his father—not about his business or Ryan’s failures as son but of the importance of family, of accepting one another as they were. Or perhaps about the gospel of Jesus Christ. Now that might be something on which they could find a meeting of the minds.
“Dad?” Ria’s voice sounded worried.
“It’s okay, honey. It’s Grandpa’s car.” His mother’s car was white. Of course, she may have ridden over with his father—it was too dark to see inside the sedan from this distance. He might have to face not only his father’s stoic indifference but also his mother’s tears at what she would surely deem his rejection. Why did she have to invite those other families?
Ryan went around the truck and scooped the sleeping Tiger off the seat. His eyelids fluttered, but his body remained limp. “I’ll just get him into bed,” he said more to himself than to Ria.
She wasn’t paying attention. “Dad, look.”
Ryan turned to see not his father but Willard coming up the walk. Sharp disappointment filled him for an instant until he battled it into a corner of his heart. I should have known better.
“Willard,” he said when his brother had come into the garage. He shifted Tiger’s weight against his chest.
His brother inclined his head. “Ryan.” They weren’t the type to hug and pound each other’s back, and Ryan suddenly felt that loss. He remembered the hearty way Kerrianne’s family greeted each other—as though they really loved.
“What brings you here?” His voice was more caustic than he’d intended, but he didn’t know how to stop the pain from leaking into his conversation. Willard had never really been a big brother to him. Well, at least not since he was maybe Tiger’s age. Every now and then, if he thought long and deep, a memory would emerge that didn’t involve Willard putting Ryan down or hanging on their father’s every word.
“Can we go inside?”
Ryan nodded, and motioned for Ria to open the door. In the kitchen he said, “I’m just going to put Tiger in bed.”
When he returned, Willard was sitting at the kitchen table across from Ria. She gave him a look of utter relief and escaped from the room.
“So,” Ryan said, seating himself. Then he remembered his manners. “You want anything to drink? We don’t have much to eat. I can make you a sandwich.” He wouldn’t give Willard any of Laurie’s casserole, no matter if he were starving.
Willard blew air from his mouth. “It’s Thanksgiving. I ate more than enough, believe me.” He patted the ample spare tire around his waist.
“Oh, yeah.” Ryan didn’t know why he was offering his brother anything. He didn’t even want him here. But it had always been that way—inside where he didn’t let it show, he’d always wanted his brother’s approval. “So,” he said again, “what’s up?”
Willard stared at the table for a long time without speaking. Ryan’s brow creased. What is up with him?
“I just,” Willard began, then stopped. He sniffed loudly and drew a heavy finger over first one eye and then another. For the first time since he’d arrived, Ryan really looked at his brother. His straight brown hair was sticking up in places, looking more like Ryan’s unruly curls, and his dress slacks and shirt were wrinkled. His flabby face looked haggard, and there were dark circles under his eyes—eyes that held an agony Ryan was stunned to see in his self-assured brother.
Willard’s shoulders jerked with a sob. “I’ve lost it all,” he said. “Cindy . . . it was all my fault. I can’t believe I’ve been such an utter fool.”
Ryan was glad he’d finally realized it. “Maybe it’s not too late.” He felt almost disloyal to Cindy as he said it because Willard really had been a jerk. He’d been the one to betray her; he’d let sin destroy the love they’d shared.
“She’s met someone else,” he said. “I always thought . . . Well, I don’t know what I always thought, but it wasn’t this. I’ve lost my wife, my home, my job—”
“Your job?” This was news to Ryan, but now it all made sense. This was why his brother was thinking of moving back to Utah. This was why he was still staying with his parents.
Willard nodded. “My fault. I made wrong choices, lost some good clients. The firm let me go. I just . . . it all spiraled out of control.” He uttered an expletive, and Ryan was glad his children weren’t in the room. “I can’t even get a date.”
“I thought you were—what about Colleen?”
“I’m not good enough. She saw right through me. Once, maybe, but not now. So here I am, a grown man, living on his parents’ mercy.”
“You told Dad?” Ryan asked in disbelief.
Willard nodded. “Not at first. Earlier this week.”
“I’m sorry.” Ryan could imagine what it must have been like. Their father wasn’t the forgiving type.
“I thought he was going to throw me out in the street, he was so mad.” Willard’s jaw trembled. “I’ve never seen him that mad before.” He uttered another word that grated on Ryan’s soul.
“Please stop that,” Ryan said. “Remember you’re in my house.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I really am. I just hate him so much.”
Of all the things Willard could have said, this shocked Ryan the most. “You and Dad are tight,” he said. “You’ve always been close—watching sports, talking shop.”
“I hated it!” Willard slammed his fist on the table. “I only watched because he did. It made him happy. Just once I wanted him to throw a ball with me or take me fishing.”
Ryan blinked back tears, but more took their place. “I felt the same way. I had no idea that you—”
“He pitted us against each other. I see that now.” Willard looked at him, tears wetting his eyes. “But you nev
er gave in. You never gave up what you wanted.” His face crumpled. “I always admired you for that.”
Ryan’s tears fell, and for the first time in almost thirty years, the brothers hugged. “Will you help me?” Willard asked. “I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know what to do.”
“Of course I’ll help,” Ryan said. “We’ll sit and talk and decide where to start. If you want, you can stay here for a while.”
Willard looked around the kitchen, and a touch of the old Willard was in his disdainful glance. “I think I’ll stay with Mom. She takes good care of me. The place is big enough to avoid the old man for the time being.”
Ryan was relieved. He had enough turmoil in his life without Willard coming to stay. “Okay, but let’s talk about what you want to do.”
They talked for three hours, and by the end of that time Willard seemed to be feeling more hopeful. “I guess I do want to keep being a lawyer,” he said. “It’s the other things in my life I want to change. Things like going to church, being honest at work, building meaningful relationships.”
Ryan knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but he would support Willard the best way he knew how.
Funny, it really does take a broken heart and a contrite spirit before a real change can be made. Ryan only wished it had happened to his brother before he’d ruined his marriage.
The hour was late, and Willard accepted Ryan’s invitation to crash out on the couch. Before they retired, the brothers shared another hug. “I’m glad you came,” Ryan told him. His voice felt choked, his chest tight with love he felt for his brother.
“Me too.”
Then, as Ryan turned off the light and headed down the hall, Willard asked, “What about that woman you brought over on Sunday. Is that where you were today?”
Ryan stopped, his heartbeat sounding loud in the quiet. He prayed that Willard wouldn’t say anything to mar their newfound friendship.
“Maybe you’re right about her,” Willard continued when Ryan didn’t reply. “Maybe she’s the kind of woman I should be looking for. Are you still seeing her, or can I have her number?”
Ryan relaxed and gave a short laugh. “Not on your life,” he said. “She’s had enough problems. Besides, she’s the woman I’m going to marry.”
Huntington Family Series Page 112
